Do or Do Not
by ensiathe3rd
Summary: There is no try. But if the bloody, shredded things that were her hands were any indication, she did try. She tried so hard.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer; I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. but someone has to have realized this, right?**

**An; Takes place further in the future, not exactly sure when. Ultimately i was torn about the end, and it came down to a coin toss. hope you enjoy. Ensia**

Do or Do not

The first thing Jemma registered was heat, unbearable, sweltering heat. She tried to recall the last thing she remembered, but all she received for her effort was a stabbing pain shooting through her head. Little by little, Jemma became more aware of her situation. She became aware of other areas of pain beside her throbbing head. Every one of her muscles ached fiercely, a sharp pain was emanating from her left arm and every time she tried to breathe it felt like someone was punching her in the chest. Exhaustion crept into every fiber of her being and all she wanted was to go back to sleep. But some part of her knew she couldn't.

There was something, something important, that she was forgetting.

The scientist in her was hungry for information and she would do everything to satiate that hunger. With more effort than it should've taken Jemma forced her weary eyes to open. Her vision was blurred and black around the edges and another shot of pain crashed into her skull at the new presence of light. From somewhere above, the sun beat down on her already battered body. Her ears rang and she smelled smoke. Something hard and somewhat sharp pressed into her from behind. Once again she tried to remember how she ended up in this position, but also once again a flash of pain deterred her from any form of cognitive thought. She tried breathing deeply to clear her thoughts but each breath brought another round of pain. The only good it did, along with blinking a few times, was clear her vision. Okay, so she had her vision back, but it couldn't help her, not really. Her limbs and chest felt like they were being weighed down by blocks of lead and she still couldn't figure out what had happened.

Jemma remembered a mission and Director Coulson ordering radio silence, but it all faded to black after that. Besides the obvious and frustrating holes in her memory, Jemma knew she was forgetting something extremely important, and she needed to figure it out fast. With that thought running through her aching head, Jemma gritted her teeth and pulled her elbows underneath her and pushed herself off the rough ground to a seated position. The effort made her short of breath as black raced into her vision and the world tilted awkwardly to the left. She was tempted to go back into her original position, but she had to figure out what had happened, and she couldn't do that lying down. Slowly and carefully, Jemma turned her head to her left, winching as her body protested the movement.

It looked like a war zone. Rumble was scattered everywhere. Shards of metal, some baring a melted appearance stuck out against the rocks, chunks of concrete, and pieces of walls, big and small, that were dominating the landscape. Small fires here and there burned while others were merely cinders. Jemma was almost positive that some sort of explosion caused this destruction, but her memory wasn't giving her any hint. Though from what she could tell, she was at the outer ring of the blast, probably why she was still alive. She looked down to take inventory of her injuries. Her clothes were a mess, covered in dirt and ash, ripped in various places, and were soaking up blood. Her feet and legs, overall, didn't feel too bad. They were sore and bleeding, but Jemma could be sure that they were only minor cuts and bruising. She hoped so, her head wasn't helping her think. Her right arm was relatively fine sans a few cuts, one of which looked deep enough to might require stitches. Her left arm on the other hand (no pun intended), was bleeding heavily from a gash on the back of her forearm. With trembling fingers she pressed what was left of her sleeve to the wound to try and slow the bleeding. It hurt, but at this point, it wasn't anything new. Nearly everything else had faded into a dull ache, which Jemma desperately hoped meant that there wasn't anything wrong. Her apparent concussion wasn't helping and kept trying to convince her to go back to sleep.

She forced the blackness from her vision with moderate success. She had to stay awake, she was alone, badly injured, and God knows where; if she wanted any chance of living, she had to stay awake. She was alone. She was alone, but that didn't make any sense. Coulson wouldn't have had her go on a mission alone. There was always someone with her, but who was it? Jemma wished she could remember what had happened. She wondered if anyone was coming from her. She wondered how long she had been out. She wondered what happened to the person she knew had to have been with her. There had to be a reason she was alone.

The midday sun beat down on her, there would be no relief from the stifling heat. There was no place big enough to provide shade and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. That thought sent a surge of panic through Jemma. Skye. Skye was with her. But now the younger girl was nowhere to be seen. Jemma spun her head around trying to search for her friend. Every inch of her protested the movement, but Jemma didn't care. Her vision blurred, the black faded back in, and her breathing became labored. It was just about to take her from reality to the realm of unconsciousness when her eyes landed on a form a little more than 5 meters to her right. It was covered in dirt and soot, much like Jemma and she almost missed it. Unfortunately, the reason she spotted it was the dark red that pooled underneath it in stark contrast to the rest of their environment.

Jemma swore her heart stopped and her concussion was no longer responsible for her blurred vision. She called out to the form, and to her immense relief it moved. The voice that answered her, albeit weak and confused, reassured Jemma that her friend was still alive, but not for long if Jemma didn't help. With as much strength as she could manage, Jemma pushed herself to her feet, debris cutting into her hands as she went. Bad idea. She had barely stood, when the black over powered her vision and the world pitched to the left. Jemma fell back to the unforgiving ground, possibly adding new injuries to her list. She didn't care; she had to reach Skye.

While Jemma was waiting for the world to stop spinning at strange angles and the incessant ringing in her ears to cease, she heard Skye call out to her again. She forced herself to look toward her fallen friend. The younger girl was trying and ultimately failing to pull herself up. Skye barely managed to get her torso off the ground before to Jemma's horror, she collapsed back to the earth. The sight only made Jemma more desperate to get to her. Gritting her teeth, Jemma pulled herself back into a seated position and blinked away the black spots. She kept her gaze on her companion, Skye really wasn't far from her, but in this moment she might have been on the other side of the planet. It wouldn't have stopped her, but it made her realize just how bad their situation was.

Jemma tried to ignore the pain rushing through her as she pushed herself to her knees. She pressed her left arm to her abdomen. The last thing that she could afford was to bleed out before she helped her friend. She saw Skye try and fail again to rise. Jemma steeled herself against the tilting of the ground and rose to her feet. She took a few drunken steps before her foot tripped on a stray baseball sized rock and she was sent to the ground once more. Agony shot through her arms as she used them to break her fall.

Jemma was weak, tired, in pain, and hot. She wasn't a field agent, she wasn't prepared for this, she wasn't May, Bobbi, or Skye. She was just Jemma and she feared that wasn't going to be enough for Skye. She was afraid that she was going to watch her friend die less than ten meters from her while she did nothing. Jemma caught her breath as she watched Skye manage to drag herself slightly closer to Jemma before her injuries that Jemma couldn't see the full extent of, made her drop once more. A few seconds and Skye was back at it.

_Please stop._

Skye was oblivious to Jemma's silent plea. Jemma sent a verbal one, but Skye gave no indication of complying. There were only two reasons she would stop. Jemma knew it. One was that she had reached Jemma, and Jemma wouldn't let herself think to the alternative. Field agent or no, Jemma was Skye's friend and she wasn't about to let her hurt herself without doing _something. _Deciding walking wasn't even an option, Jemma pulled herself to her hands and knees once more. Her stomach lurched at the effort, but Jemma forced down the bile. With tremendous effort she took her eyes from the still struggling Skye and to the ground in front of her. The ground before her was littered with debris and there was no way she could get to Skye without damaging her hands further. But Skye needed her, and Jemma wasn't about to let some minor pain and injury stop her. So Jemma focused as best she could and moved one hand forward. Immediately, her arm screamed in agony and Jemma bit her lip to keep from crying out. She knew such an action would only spur Skye on further. So, with the knowledge that this wasn't going to get any better the longer she waited, Jemma put out her other arm. Fiery pain stabbed Jemma in the arm and her elbow buckled, sending Jemma to the ground, new cuts to her arm and shoulder as souvenirs. Her stomach flipped and Jemma was barely able to turn her head before she expunged its contents.

Everything hurt, breathing, thinking, _being. _Every part of Jemma screamed at her to stop putting herself through this torture. But if Jemma was honest with herself, this pain, however bad it was, was nothing compared to the sound of crunching rocks, followed by something being dragged and the subsequent thuds that rang in her eardrums periodically and the knowledge that they were getting further and further apart. Skye was still fighting; Jemma could do the same. At this point, Jemma's need to get to Skye was the only thing that kept the young biochemist going. She wasn't about to let her friend down.

Little by little, Jemma somehow found it in herself to crawl one armed a slow two meters before collapsing once more. The heat made the task even worse as Jemma could no longer distinguish between her blood and her sweat as both raced down her body to the earth below. She chanced a look at Skye, the younger girl had barely made it a meter, if that, and there were still at least two meters separating the two. Never before had that been such a daunting distance to either girl. Although Jemma could finally see why Skye was having such a hard time moving toward her. And to be frank, Jemma wished she hadn't. The hacktivist's back was all but torn to shreds, no cut looked especially deep, but every one pf them leaked blood. What Jemma could see of her skin through the dirt, sweat, grime, blood, and apparent tear tracks on her face was pale. Her hands and arms were cut up much like Jemma's were in the attempt to get to the each other. But Jemma had seen these kind of injuries before and while seeing them on her friend shattered her heart in her chest, the thing that made her want to throw up again was the bloody and mangled _thing_ that Skye was dragging behind her that should have been the younger girl's leg. The only solace Jemma could find was that it appeared as though the damaged limb was at the very least all there and that Skye was still moving.

Jemma felt the exhaustion deep in her bones and "get to Skye" was the only coherent thought she could manage. Through the heat, the pain, and the exhaustion, Skye was the only thing that kept her moving forward. She was the only thing that kept Jemma pushing herself back up every time she fell.

Jemma started hearing whimpers join the sounds that came when Skye tried and failed to keep herself up. By now, Jemma's hands were torn to shreds and she had lost track of how much blood she had lost. Probably a lot, if how weak she felt was any indication. It made her wonder just how useless her attempts to get to her friend really were. Jemma had no means to help Skye even if she wanted to, she couldn't even help herself. She had no gear, no supplies and her brain was barely functioning. Heck, she didn't even know where they were or how and why they got into this position. Even if she did get to the younger girl, even if help came right away, there was no guarantee that either one of them would live anyway. If Skye was losing blood as quickly as Jemma thought she was, she would need a transfusion almost immediately if she was to stand a chance. And what was the chance their rescuers would have access to the store of Skye's unique blood Jemma had built up over the years? They had never tried giving her any blood but her own after her transformation as they didn't know what ramifications could come from giving her normal blood. It all felt like Jemma was fighting a losing battle and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

But if she couldn't stop her friend's death, she would make sure Skye didn't die alone. It was the only thing that moved her another meter or so toward her friend. Jemma could feel the ground tremble beneath her, it was only slight, but at the sight of Skye falling one more time, Jemma couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. Skye made no more apparent attempt to rise, but raised her eyes to Jemma's. There was so much pain in the dull brown orbs. The younger girl whispered her companion's name so quietly, Jemma wasn't sure she really heard it. Jemma tried speak in return, but her breath and voice failed her. She simply smiled as best she could through the pain, which might have turned out more like a grimace. Skye weakly repeated the gesture and crawled her hand as far in Jemma's direction as it would go. And then Jemma watched in horror as Skye's eyes rolled up in her head and she fell the rest of the way to the cold unforgiving earth.

She didn't get back up, and the vibrations quickly ceased.

Jemma pushed herself further, desperate to reach her friend. She didn't make it much further, before her strength finally left her entirely. She collapsed to the ground and try as she may, she couldn't pull herself back up. She was less than a meter from her friend and she couldn't go any further. All she wanted in the world right now was to touch her friend. Just make contact. She could not die, she could not let Skye die without achieving what they both tried so hard to accomplish. She could not fail her.

Jemma reached out her arm to meet Skye's. And before she could tell whether or not she had succeeded, the world went black and Jemma was helpless to fight it.

And shortly thereafter, that was how they were found by the S.H.I.E.L.D. rescue team. Both alive, albeit barely, and with Jemma's index finger wrapped limply around Skye's.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer; i do not own Agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.**

**An; i got requests to continue. that's what i'm gonna do. Ensia**

Jemma woke to the sound of yelling. Or else, she woke to the sound of loud garbled shouts that she assumed were supposed to be English. With more effort than should have been necessary, she forced her heavy eyes open. The bright lights above sent daggers through her skull and she closed them once more. Okay, so seeing wasn't an option right now. Jemma could work with that. Maybe. She dedicated her attention to her other senses. Every part of her felt heavy, but the surface she was on was soft, not completely comfortable but definitely not the ground. Rough material scratched gently against her skin nearly everywhere there was skin. Her lungs felt tight, but every few seconds air was pushed through Jemma's mouth and nose to assist the struggling organs. Something was on her face and preventing her sense of smell from providing her with any information sans that plastic and oxygen were present. The longer she was conscious the more she became aware of dull aches and pains here and there all over her body. Her head was by far the worst. Every thought was like hitting herself upside the head with a croquet mallet. Every sound was knife through her brain. Unfortunately ,along with the garbled shouts was a constant beeping that insisted on causing her head as much pain as possible.

Still, weak and in pain, Jemma was beyond confused. She didn't remember how she ended up here. It was starting to become tedious as to how often that was happening. She wasn't dead, of that she was certain. She wasn't certain how, but it was that need to know that prompted Jemma to try once more to open her eyes. It was just as laborious a task as it was the first , the light wasn't as painful. It wasn't the sun and blinking a few times let her see through the lights to the ceiling above them. The room was a comfortable temperature, but Jemma felt cold.

The garbled shouting was becoming more clear, but she still couldn't make out the words. The only conclusion she could come to about it was that she knew the speaker. Jemma wasn't sure exactly who, only that she knew them. Jemma closed her eyes as memories hit her like tons of bricks shot from a cannon. She remembered waking up the first time and her painful crawl toward her friend, but not anything further than that. She didn't even know if she had succeeded.

A clump of dread settled in the pit of her stomach, and the only comfort she could rationalize was that if she had made it, maybe help had come soon enough for Skye. It was a long shot, but it was the only thing that Jemma could afford to think. She couldn't bare to believe the alternative. Besides Skye was always about the long shots, if anyone could make it against all odds, Skye could. Jemma pushed unbidden thoughts from her head, there were to many other things to worry about.

She opened her eyes once more, it was easier this time for which Jemma was grateful. Even though every part of her body protested, Jemma turned her head to the shouting. In the doorway, stood two people, who slowly came into focus as Fitz and Coulson. They looked terrible. Though, Jemma was sure she was in no position to comment. Both looked exhausted and Jemma was sure Fitz had been crying. His eyes were bloodshot a dark red and his face was an even darker shade as he yelled at a pale faced Coulson. Jemma couldn't make out the Scottish man's words, but it didn't take any higher brain power to recognize that her best friend was upset. What really shocked her about it was that Fitz almost never got shouting upset. Fitz generally went with the silent treatment and the fact that Coulson was flat out letting the younger man berate him sent chills down Jemma's spine. There was very little that could have ended with the two men in the position. Jemma knew it must have to do with her and Skye, but there were so many variable's that could have set Fitz off, and Jemma wasn't sure she wanted to know it all.

Whatever Fitz had intended to say next, the engineer choked on it as he turned from Coulson and leaned his arm on the door frame. Coulson put his hand on the younger man's shoulder only for Fitz to shrug it off. Coulson whispered something Jemma couldn't hear and left. Jemma watched as Fitz took several strangled breaths that might have been sobs. Quite honestly, at the sight the only thing that ensured that Jemma's heart was still beating was the periodic beeping next to her. Although, it might have been a malfunction.

Tears sprang to her eyes and fell without Jemma's consent. Suddenly, Jemma wanted to go back to sleep. She wanted to avoid the answers she knew deep in her bones that she didn't want to know. In her sleep, help had come soon enough and Skye was alright and healing in the next room. Reality held too many variables, too many truths that Jemma could not face. The beeping started to get more and more frequent, Fitz turned toward her and their bloodshot eyes met. They were about four meters apart and the universe decided to spit in Jemma's face by having Fitz easily cross the distance between them in a few seconds. Anger seemingly forgotten, he took her hand in his own and plopped into a chair beside her bed. He reached out and gently wiped the tears from her cheek. He quietly shushed her and told her everything was alright. But it wasn't, Jemma knew that. Jemma was torn between wanting to know what had become of her friend and letting Fitz continue to lie to her.

She dreaded the truth, so much so that she was tempted to just fade away back into the darkness. At least there, she could be free from the pain of losing one of the people in her life who made it worth living. She could bask in the ignorance. Jemma usually craved knowledge, but not this, if Skye was gone, she didn't want to know. Every second she spent awake was another second of torment as she became another second to hearing the words that she so desperately did not want to hear. The beeping became more and more frequent jabbing her in the head each time it came around. The darkness started to cover Fitz's face and Jemma couldn't fight it even if she wanted to try. And she wasn't even sure she wanted to.

She was almost gone, but then she heard Fitz's desperate exclamations of one word over and over again. Her name. The darkness ran from her friend's calls. And just like that, she came back to him. She focused on the only person in the world who could convince her to stay. He smiled, and his eyes sparkled as more tears ran down his cheeks. He congratulated her like a parent would a small child after cleaning their room. She might have been angered at the belittlement once, but here, she just didn't have the strength to care. It wasn't like she had a choice anyway. Fitz's brushed her hair back and stroked her forehead. Agony ripped through her skull at every touch. She made a sound that was somewhere between an actual scream and a cat mewling. Fitz to his credit removed his hand immediately with whispered apologies.

She was beyond exhausted, but Fitz insisted that she stay awake. A doctor came in and after several tests that agitated her aching head even more, assured her that she would probably live to hit him for it. Only not in those words exactly. Then with Fitz refusing to leave her side, the doctor gave Jemma her list. It was worse than Jemma had thought, though nothing she wasn't expecting to some degree. A concussion, obviously, four cracked ribs, one broken one that scratched her lung, minimal damage to said organ, but she would have some trouble breathing for a while, so that was what the oxygen mask was for, and mild to severe lacerations on her arms and legs which caused her to lose enough blood to warrant a transfusion. She knew she had been losing a fair amount of blood but apparently she severely underestimated just how much. Jemma had other things on her mind at the time. And of course, a moderate infection do to the contamination of the wounds. But as the doctor kept explaining what was wrong with her something wasn't appearing on her list that she was expecting. She didn't have any burns. An explosion capable of that much destruction surely would have left at least a few burns behind. Not that she was complaining, it just didn't make sense, and Jemma was becoming frustrated with things that didn't make sense.

The doctor finished talking about some treatment and recovery, that Jemma had zoned out on. However, Fitz was nodding at various intervals, so she hoped her friend had caught what she didn't. The doctor bid them both farewell and Fitz waved before turning his attention back to Jemma. Through the bandages she felt Fitz rubbing her hand. She tried to focus on his face, but it became blurry every time. He kept looking at her with broken eyes. She wondered how long had she been out, how long had he been wondering if he was going to lose her. A wave of guilt crashed over loved him and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. Not like this.

He kept smiling at her. It wasn't his truly happy smile, but it was enough to say that in his eyes Jemma made everything significantly brighter. She didn't believe she deserved that but if he was happy Jemma could let it be. She tried to smile back, but she knew it didn't work. Her eyelids drooped, and Fitz's smile dropped slightly, but he told her to go to sleep. She didn't need to be told twice. Once more Fitz assured her that everything was alright and as she drifted off, Jemma found herself wanting more than anything to believe him. She felt him gently kiss her forehead before she knew nothing else.

* * *

Fitz hardly left her side for the next few days. He would help her when her hands would hurt or her brain could not make them function. He was patient when her head and voice and mouth were on several different pages. She supposed he knew what it felt like. He would talk to her, sometimes with her, but when Jemma was too tired to carry out a general conversation he would talk about anything and everything. Well, almost everything. She knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to distract her and Jemma couldn't help but be grateful to him for it. Still, it didn't help that as soon as the topic drifted toward Skye, he would backtrack and start a new conversation. Whatever happened to Skye, Fitz didn't want to tell her. It filled Jemma with a sense of dread and reminded Jemma of the questions she dare not ask for fear of the answer. She didn't ask and he offered her no answers. Jemma knew Fitz better than anyone and while his smiles around her were real, they weren't complete. He was holding back and as the days went on she noticed he was becoming more and more exhausted.

There were very few times when Fitz would leave her when she was awake, one was when Coulson or May stood by the door and Fitz sprung up and dragged him into the hall, out of Jemma's sight and out of her earshot. Normally, he would come back quiet and subdued after a few minutes. Once it was a half an hour and he came back with red eyes that he tried to hide from her. When it happened, they would just sit in silence, one baring the torture of not knowing and the other suffering from knowing. Some times he would open his mouth like he wanted to tell her something, but he never did and Jemma didn't want to push.

Bobbi made a visit before leaving for a mission. She tried to smile just like the others but Jemma could tell she was worried. She left Jemma with the order to be back on her feet by the time she got back. May and Coulson also made several appearances where they stuck around and wished her well. They weren't long visits and Jemma was happy for that. Jemma was nowhere near as close to the two senior agents as Skye and rationalized that as long as May and Coulson stayed away, they were with Skye, and her friend was still alive, still fighting. Jemma had to hope that it would be enough. It was the only thing she could focus on most of the time.

They tried once to ask her what had happened on the mission, but they soon realized just how poor her memory of the event was. It was clear that no one wanted to hear that Jemma couldn't remember. Even she wanted to give them the answers they were seeking, but she couldn't. Coulson looked particularly upset and tried to push. Fitz stopped it before it even really began. And after that anyone who tried to question her further was silenced with a glare from the engineer.

The doctors were pleased with how well she was recovering. Her thoughts were becoming clearer, she was breathing on her own without feeling like her lungs were being beaten, and her lacerations were healing cleanly, though there would be scars. Jemma tried not to mind. After all, there were worse things, but she wasn't sure how she felt about the proof of how helpless she was to her friend being permanently cut into her skin. At least with blood, she could wash her hands. They started to make plans for her to be released, but only after she promised no more than minimal exertion once she left for several weeks. It was progress.

When Fitz left her to let her get dressed to go home, he was gone longer than he should have been. Jemma forced herself not to worry. Well, she tried. The man probably just got sidetracked. Unfortunately, if the last few days possessed any pattern it was that the longer Fitz was gone the more likely it was that he would come back with tears in his eyes. And he was gone longer than he had ever been. Ultimately, he was gone for two hours, seven minutes, before he came back and the pattern held true.

Jemma stood up in confusion when her friend all but sprinted into her room, tears in his eyes, and the biggest smile she had ever seen on him. He dashed at her and pulled her into an embrace that she, baffled, returned. He pulled back, and put his hands on either side of her face. Fitz kissed her temple and laughed. Before she could ask what he was so happy about, he said the words that Jemma only dreamed she would hear. Fitz laughed again and repeated the phrase. Jemma didn't think it was possible for her to be happier. She broke into a wide grin and jumped into his arms. Fitz spun her around, both were laughing with joy and crying with relief. Fitz repeated those words over and over again as if they were his favorite words and he could never be sick of them. Jemma had to admit, she loved those words too and didn't want him to stop saying them. Not now, not ever. Nothing else mattered, in that moment, and try as it may nothing in the world could bring Jemma down from the joy she was feeling. Skye was awake.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer; i do not own Agents of Shield no matter how many candle's i might blow out. **

On one side, they found out that a normal blood transfusion wouldn't kill Skye. On the other hand, it would try extremely hard. Combine that with the various infections she accumulated as well as her injuries, and it was nothing short of a miracle the woman was still alive. The first few days there wasn't a soul in the compound who believed she would pull through. Hoped, sure, but no one believed it. But, if Jemma knew one thing about Skye it was that the younger woman had a tendency to defy expectations. All her life, Skye had been beaten down only to get back up and keep fighting. She was too stubborn to simply die. Jemma knew Skye couldn't go on like that forever, but she was happier than words could describe that Skye had at least one more good fight left in her.

Fitz had explained it simply, with how sporadic Skye's condition had been, he couldn't bring himself to offer her hope just to have it stripped away. He tried to tell her but everytime he thought he could the words caught in his throat. Jemma didn't blame him, after all she never asked, maybe for the same reasons. And with how clearly she made it that she didn't remember the operation that brought her and Skye to their current condition, he had probably thought, _hoped, _that she didn't remember that Skye had been with her at all. Didn't remember why her hands had been torn to shreds. He wanted to allow her to focus on her own recovery first. Maybe she was just too happy to even conceive being angry or upset with him. Maybe it was the concussion, but she didn't really care.

Fitz made sure she sat down before explaining the extent of Skye's injuries to her. It was nothing less than what she had expected. Being as smart as she was, Jemma had long since stopped putting stock on the chance she was wrong. She had seen Skye; she knew it was bad. Still she hated hearing how high the fever had raged through Skye, attacking her organs, while destroying nearly every attempt to cool her leaving unknown amounts of damage in its wake. She hated being told how much the younger woman had bled before the doctors were able to stitch her many wounds closed. Jemma hated hearing about the injuries to Skye's hands that very much mirrored her own, while knowing _exactly _what caused them. She hated how that was not even half of it.

The recovery would be terrible for the spirited hacker. She would never be the same. Jemma had resigned herself to that. If anything, it was inevitable that after such an experience she wouldn't be the same. Jemma didn't even think she could be the same herself. Jemma had changed before, time and time again, and all she could do was hope that this time, it wasn't for the worse. The lives they lead, well, no one ever came out without their scars. Skye and Jemma weren't the exception. If anything, they were living proof of the rule. All of their team were.

Fitz told her how they had managed to save Skye's leg, but were unsure if she would ever walk under her own power again. Of everything, that worried Jemma the least, because frankly, between the her and Fitz with Skye willing, one way or another, she _would _walk again, just maybe not the way she used to. They were among the top scientific minds of their generation, if anyone could find a way, they could. The only real problem Jemma could see was Skye hurting herself trying to speed the process along. Jemma knew her friend, and it wasn't like Skye was a stranger to attempting to escape hospital rooms. Healthy Skye was stubborn, patient Skye was ten times worse. Though, Jemma rationalized that May was far worse. It was really like comparing an iguana to Godzilla. Still, Jemma didn't like having to play warden. She'd rather be helpful and encouraging instead of a block in Skye's way.

Jemma thought she was taking in everything quite well considering, but by Fitz's concerned frown, apparently she wasn't doing as well as she had thought. There were a few questions involving her own well being. And no, she wasn't all right, or fine, or okay, or anything else of the like. But she wasn't okay when she and Skye crawled toward one another. Jemma could ignore the aches and pains racing through her and the worry that made her chest hurt more than normal. It didn't matter to her. Jemma was aware that she spent more attention on others than what could be considered healthy for her. Still the ache of being helpless, the ache of her friends and family being hurt around her was worse than the physical pain. She could help as long as she could assure Fitz she was capable. Still, it didn't really matter what she did, Fitz knew her too well. But Simmons knew him too. Without words, Fitz made it clear that he didn't buy for one second that she was "fine" but would let it slide for the moment. He would be watching her closely.

After everything was said, thoughts swam in Jemma's head, erratic and quick. It hurt her head trying to find a grounding point among them. Again, it must have been the concussion. Fitz reached out and took her hand. He smiled sadly at her. His warm hands completely dwarfed Jemma's but she was grateful for it. It gave her a grounding point and helped her focus. She smiled back as one thought shined through brighter than every other one running through her mind. She wanted, _needed, _to see Skye. She needed to be able to see for herself.

Fitz kept a hand on her back as they walked through the halls. Why he felt the need to do so she didn't know. She was happy for it all the same. She wasn't as steady on her feet as she would have liked to be. They had to stop multiple times when her head suddenly decided that walking would be more fun if the floor was tilted 37 degrees to the left. Fitz was patient and helped hold her up or pushed her into a chair if one was there while the dizziness passed. And still, he didn't insist that she stop or wait for another day. He knew he wouldn't win. No, he probably figured that the easier argument was to have her take it slow while ultimately making sure she got to her goal safely. He wasn't called a genius for nothing. They both knew Jemma wouldn't stop until she saw Skye. At one point, Fitz just wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady. After that, it went a lot quicker.

Jemma wasn't sure how long it took them to come to Skye's room, but when she did a knot in her stomach made her wish it had taken longer. She desperately wanted to see Skye, but she wasn't sure if she was up to be fully reminded of how Skye looked before help had arrived. Fitz squeezed her waist gently when he noticed her freeze. Jemma took a deep breath and turned fully into him and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. Without hesitation he put his other hand around her waist and pulled her further against him. She pressed her face into his shoulder while he put his chin on the crown of her head. He didn't try to tell her that everything was okay, they both knew it wasn't. He simply held her and let her know without words that he was there for her. She stood there taking in his warmth, the rest of the world felt so cold and seeped into her bones. In that moment, she was beyond grateful for Fitz. She gathered as much warmth and strength from him as she could. She reluctantly pulled away and looked into his eyes. He smiled warmly at her and brought up his hand to cup her cheek. He leaned forward to kiss her temple and then rested his forehead against hers. Jemma took a deep breath and returned his smile.

She eased out of his grip and turned into the room. She stood in the doorway. May had taken residence in a plastic chair by Skye's bed and was talking gently to the young hacker. Jemma followed the senior agent's line of sight as she set her eyes upon her friend. Beautifully and wonderfully alive. Skye was awake, but she looked like she would fall asleep at the first opportunity. Jemma knew they had to keep her awake for a while. She had an extremely high fever for 9 days before it had broken the night. Combined with her injuries and her powers no one was quite sure how she would react. For everyone's safety, the doctors with permission from Coulson had kept her sedated until early that morning. Unfortunately, keeping her sedated came with its own set of problems. It came down to the lesser of two evils and the evil they had to choose put Skye at death's door four times. Jemma hated it, but she knew Skye would never have forgiven herself had her powers hurt someone. Now they just hoped there was no lasting damage from the choice.

Skye was pale, true Jemma had seen the girl paler on multiple occasions, but Jemma still didn't like how it made her friend look so devoid of life. Skye was clearly trying to pay attention to May, but was failing miserably as her eyes shifted in and out of focus. Jemma continued to hover by the door just watching. She felt Fitz by her side but she couldn't acknowledge him. She found herself unable to move no matter how hard she tried.

Three meters.

Skye turned her head and looked over May's shoulder. Right into Jemma's eyes. There was something dead in her gaze, but there was also the spark of someone who wasn't done fighting. Skye smiled and it was the kind of smile that told Simmons she was okay. That stubborn grin that said she wasn't finished just yet. Jemma had known Skye for long enough to not believe that smile without a thorough medical exam to back it up. Still, it comforted Jemma to know that Skye's spirit was still in working order.

Jemma wanted to run to her friend, but her feet felt heavy and Jemma rationalized that she was more likely to collapse than to make any significant move toward Skye. Didn't stop her before. Slowly and with deliberate movements, she inched her way closer. It was easier with Fitz's hand on her back offering a grounding point but not pushing in anyway.

Two Meters

May had noticed Skye's diversion of attention and out of the corner of her eye, Jemma noticed May leave her chair in a silent offer to give it to Jemma. Meanwhile, Jemma couldn't bring herself to break eye contact with Skye, but she was grateful. The hacktivist only continued to smile as it was quite clear how hard it was to keep her eyes open and locked with Jemma's.

One Meter

Skye lifted her bandaged hand toward Jemma. Or else, she tried to. It rose a few centimeters off the blanket and then limply fell back to the bed. Jemma moved to the chair and all but fell into it as her weak knees gave in on her. She reached forward and took Skye's damaged hand in her own. Jemma smiled as tears appeared in her eyes and raced down her cheeks. She had been so afraid that she had lost her friend. But she was there, beautifully and wonderfully alive. Everything else could wait.

Fitz squeezed her shoulder and told the pair of them that he and May would be back soon. Jemma reluctantly broke eye contact with Skye to nod to him. Her throat felt tight as she watched the pair walk from the room. Minute pressure on her hand caused Jemma to look back at Skye. The younger woman's smile had faded as her eyelids drooped and Skye looked on the verge of sleep. Skye whispered her name, though it may have been the only volume she could dredge up. Jemma heard the beginning of what she could have sworn was an apology cross Skye's lips before dying in the air.

Jemma hadn't a clue as to what Skye thought she had to apologize for. Then again, the hacker had always been harsh on herself and Jemma was missing a good chunk of time. There was a pretty good chance that Skye remembered something she didn't. Maybe there was something to be sorry for, maybe there wasn't. Overall, it didn't matter to Jemma anyway. Whatever happened, Jemma was glad her friend was alive, and that was what mattered. She shook her head while keeping the smile on her face. She reached the hand that wasn't holding Skye's and brushed her hair back. It may not have been as reassuring as Jemma hoped with her terrible coordination and bandaged hands, but Skye leaned into the touch all the same.

They would talk. Later, when Skye wasn't drunk on exhaustion and the cocktail of drugs the doctors were pumping into her via the crook of her arm and when the drummers stopped playing on Jemma's head and she hopefully had more to offer than the memory of the last part of the mission, they would talk. It would be good for them both. But now wasn't the time and Jemma was willing to wait.

Jemma didn't tell her it was all okay, they both knew it would be a lie. So she didn't even try. But if Jemma had anything to say about it, it would be. Maybe not today, or a week from now, but they would get through this. One day.

Jemma didn't keep track of how long they sat together, but a doctor eventually came back and gave Skye his blessing to sleep. Jemma didn't think she had ever seen her friend follow a medical professional's advice so quickly. Stubborn woman. Jemma just smiled fondly at her and kept their hands together until Fitz and May came back. Fitz wanted to take her home so she could rest. Jemma was tired, but she didn't want to leave and tried to protest. Fitz promised that he would bring Jemma back in the morning and May promised to stay with Skye and let them know if something happened. Skye was basically out of the woods and there wasn't really anything they should have to worry about. Still, try as she might Jemma wasn't any good at not worrying.

With great reluctance, Jemma let go of Skye's hand. The world was cold again and all she wanted to do was take it back. Jemma and Fitz bid farewell to May and the sleeping Skye. As they walked out, Fitz put his arm back around Jemma's waist and let her pick their pace. Jemma walked slowly. One meter. Two meters. Three meters. Four meters. Five meters, more away from what she tried so hard to be close to. There was something painfully cruel about it all. And Jemma was sure the pain in her chest had very little to do with her ribs.


End file.
